


Saved From That Eternal Silence

by musicforswimming



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: Gen, Resurrection, Snow and Ice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-15
Updated: 2006-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:29:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicforswimming/pseuds/musicforswimming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They bring back Jack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saved From That Eternal Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a pinch-hit in a Norrington ficathon. Desired elements were "good James sarcasm/snark" and "Elizabeth's redemption". Written prior to "At World's End", which of course pretty well jossed the entire thing.

'Twas the ends of the earth which Tia Dalma dispatched them to, and to the ends of the earth he was persuaded at last (less by Elizabeth's words and more by nightmares which leave him chilled to the bone in day) to bring the heart, and 'tis the ends of the earth they find themselves at. It must be the same; James has never heard of anyone going this far before, in all the stories and sailor's tales. Anyway, he'd be hard-pressed to imagine there's much more to the world than these hard, half-finished edges where the wind screams and the sun, bright and frigid, is something different entirely from the article of the same name which they all have heretofore known.

Elizabeth and Will take it hardest of all of them -- though none of them is best pleased with the cold. But she is a gentlewoman, and half her life has been spent in the Caribbean, and if she stumbles, shivering, behind the rest, even in the furs purchased from their guide, one can hardly fault her for that. Certainly he cannot; the cold is hard on all of them, but at least a lifetime in the Navy has made him more than used to toil (the which she has scarcely known).

She confided in him what passed between her and Jack, and how she blames herself -- rightly so, of course, though he cannot fault her for choosing the course she did -- for the latter's death. Too, James has gathered from Will that he glimpsed the kiss, and it explains, certainly, why in the weeks they've been travelling, and still Will barely looks at her. Once, she stumbles, and Turner strides right over her crumpled form, with only a moment's hesitation. So James turns back and picks her up, and at the fire every night James puts an arm 'round her shoulders.  
   
   
   
   
Perhaps it's only the fact that she's responsible for Jack's end which has endeared her to him, but James has been more tender to her these weeks than he has in some long while. Elizabeth's hardly sure what to make of it, and she's not quite bone-tired enough not to worry over it.

He expects nothing more from her, though. They huddle close together in the tent at night, she and James, but she's fairly certain this is done only out of necessity. That she'd just as happily cling to Will -- pah, she'd just as happily cling to Barbossa, at this point, except there's no warmth to him, being already dead -- is never even mentioned, though. He won't so much as look at her, so she never gets the chance to tell him.  
   
   
   
   
There is a pool in the cave -- this is the first thing Elizabeth notices when they finally reach it on the twelfth day of walking across a frozen waste. She doesn't understand how it is that the water might still be liquid -- even alcohol freezes here, and making one's water in the morning is not a little problematic and uncomfortable.

Then she recalls their purpose here, and notices the soft blue glow coming from the water itself, and supposes expecting magical forces to obey the laws of nature is rather naive of her.

It may be that the woman comes from the water itself; that's what Elizabeth thinks it must be. But she appears so quickly that none of them are quite sure from whence she's come, if she's come from anywhere at all and hasn't just suddenly been.  
   
   
   
   
There are no words exchanged, there need be none. The creature simply knows what they are here for, what they want, and they know what they must do. They know that one of them must offer something -- that was assumed from the very beginning, but only now, here, as the creature turns its black eyes on them, do they understand how very useless the gold they've brought is.

The rest of them are looking at one another, bewildered, but Elizabeth steps forward, and only as she is offering her left hand, and the heart with it, does James notice, and of course by then it is far too late.  
   
   
   
   
She shudders at the woman's touch, and sees the flesh of her hand freeze, but it's so cold she hardly feels it -- at first.

Then there comes pain, of course; more pain than she thinks there ought to be. After all, cold makes one numb, doesn't it? She shouldn't feel anything -- but she does, oh, she does. Elizabeth realizes the voice that's screaming is hers, and she won't even let herself fall to the ground lest the woman try to pull her to her feet again.

There is something in the woman's face when she turns her head -- when the never-ending sun hits it just right, Elizabeth sees something else, she thinks. Perhaps she's only imagining it, though -- perhaps there's nothing to it --  
   
   
   
   
Jack, when he appears -- in the same unsettling way the creature did -- seems none the worse for wear, though he's immediately complaining of the cold. Elizabeth is staring at the place where her hand was, though, and barely notices when Jack pulls her fur cloak over them both.

"Sparrow, for the love of..." James cannot finish his mumbled oath, pulling Elizabeth away from Jack and promptly putting his own coat over her shoulders. She's shaking, but the wound looks -- really, it looks as though there were no recent wound. It's long-healed, and he is grateful for that, at least, that there's no chance of infection.

"Are you all right, Elizabeth?" he asks. Rather pointless a question, of course, but he wants to keep her with them -- she seems to be distant, and he fears she may be drifting towards whatever world it is Jack and the creature came from -- and the sound of her name makes her look up at him, makes her see him.

"I've -- " She doesn't know what to say, he supposes. Which she can hardly be faulted for.

"She'll be all right," someone says, very close to his ear, and James realizes that Jack has joined them. The pirate takes the girl's empty forearm between his hands, and gazes at the place where her hand was. "I suppose we might call the debt even now, eh, Miss Swann?" he asks, and kisses the smooth scarring of her wrist.

She laughs, and that breaks something in the air, and sets them all to the long journey back.  
   
   
   
   
Elizabeth can't quite bring herself to leave the ship once they reach the harbor. Will glances at her briefly -- she sees it, in the corner of her eye, but as soon as she looks at him he looks away again.

"I'm sorry, Will," she says. She touches him, then, since he will not do it himself, and he _does_ look up.

She doesn't know what she was expecting; from the look on his face, neither does he. Perhaps both of them were expecting some sort of magical resolution -- or absolution, at least -- but there is none. There is only the ghost-ache of her lost hand, and the warring anger and sorrow she beholds, writ plain and large, on his face.

"Elizabeth," he says, and there is something in his voice that speaks of his strangling.  
   
   
   
   
James listens. The wind is such that even some twenty feet away, he can hear their soft voices, but anyway, there's not much to be heard at all.

Will can barely force out Elizabeth's name, and James understands -- they have both estimated her entirely wrongly. The only one who's had the full measure of her from the beginning is Jack. The difference is that James thinks he can bear the difference between what he saw and what she is, and he does not know if Will can.

"No, Will," Elizabeth says, before the other can go any further. Her remaining hand goes back to her side, and she does not even kiss him as she turns away. "I'm sorry," she says -- for this, at least, her voice is strong and clear -- and then she is walking away, walking back towards him.

"Is the honeymoon over, then?" Jack asks, having slipped up beside him, cat-ly silent. "Such a shame."

James snorts, pretending to ignore the light brush of Sparrow's fingers against his shoulder. "As I understand it, you'll be more than happy to play the Dragon and St George with her."

"Shan't deny that, of course, but that doesn't mean I can't mourn their ill-starred love, now, does it?" Jack asks. The sunset's light catches on something quick in his leering grin, but James doesn't let himself be troubled by it.

"Elizabeth?" he calls, and that is something that gets through to her, he's glad to see. She turns, and looks at him, and smiles.  
   
   
   
   
"Good-bye, Will," she says, and kisses his cheek quickly, too quickly for him to do anything about it. She doesn't look at him as she turns back to Jack and James, ignoring the former's smirks and pretending she thinks naught of the latter's care.

"Well, gentlemen," she says, "and where are we bound for now?"


End file.
